The Retired Bandit
by stereotypicalgamer
Summary: A former highwayman is blackmailed into doing a task for Maven so he can be with his wife in peace and quiet.
1. Prologue

It was another cold, brisk Skyrim night. A bandit's horse galloped solemly throughout the snow-covered grounds of Winterhold. He rode his steed fast, longing to bring the good news to his wife, in Riften.

As she waited impatiently for his arrival, the mistress prepared for the feast, checking if she had enough drinks or if she would have to make another trek to the Black-Briar Meadery. She never did like the Black-Briars, but Maven was the worst. She was the one who conned Arthelio into doing this ridiculously stupid errand in the first place. She knew he was done with the bandit's life, yet she had to go and bring up the horse he once stole from the Markarth stables. He likes keeping his head on his neck, but she threatened to call upon the Dark Brotherhood to take care of him, anyway.

As he continuously galloped forward, he could only think of why she wanted this stupid stone anyway. True, there are only twenty-four of them in existence, but they're just floating stones, probably cursed by some Daedric lord in the first place. Why would she want this rock so badly?

The night continued to age, as the food she prepared for him grew cold. Vilad wondered whatever became of that boy she once knew, back in Helgen. She couldn't quite remember the name, but she had never heard from him after he moved to Riverwood. The only thing she could think of is if he died in the war, or perhaps became a prisoner of war. She knew he was a devout Talos worshipper, but he never was one for traiting. Or was he?

Arthelio remembered about the life he used to have in Rorikstead, and thought of how he should have made better decisions. After all, he wouldn't be doing this highly unusual errand right now if he did. But, he also wouldn't have met Vilad if he made the right decisions either. He chuckled, his warm Nord breath very visible on the frostnipped Skyrim night. He continued, until Windhelm was in his sights.

For some reason, Vilad just could not stop thinking about the boy from Helgen. How did he grow up? Did Riverwood treat him kindly? Was life decent working at the mill everyday? She tried to shake these thoughts from her head, but she just could not stop thinking about him. She knew he liked he juniper berry mead, but did he like her? She took a very serious life analysis at this point, for the boy was only eight years old. But, Vilad kept thinking, maybe he grew up to be tall, bruting, and handsome, with a little know-how around a blade? She grew weary. _"I'm just desperate for attention,"_ she thought to herself. _"After all, I haven't seen Arthelio in two months."_ Was he even still alive?

He rode, until blood, sweat, and tears hit the cold, hard pavements of Windhelm. He pondered whether he should spend the night in Candlehearth Hall or not. He quickly hopped back on his horse, for he had heard of murders happening to the women of Windhelm, and didn't feel like making a pit-stop in the jail of the Palace of the Kings before seeing Vilad again.

She drew out the night, doubting he'd even make it back alive. Sure, they could bring his corpse back, but they'd probably send it to Falkreath. The place had a big enough graveyard, it's like half of Skyrim was buried there. A friend of hers, who she couldn't remember the name of, told her that two bandits and a calvary of Stormcloaks had just been arrested and brought to her hometown of Helgen for an excecution. But Sapphire never did have an honest look, especially since she ran with the Thieve's Guild all the time. She blew the candle out after putting the food away and went to bed for the night.


	2. Greetings from the Forsworn

Hey guys, I may have confused some of you with the featured characters in the story, but I assure you, Sapphire and Maven will NOT have a love affair. That would be unusual. I should have only featured Maven as a featured character, because Sapphire was not intended to be an important character in the story. She might, though! Let me know how you're liking the story and I will see you around!

As Arthelio set up camp, he questioned whether this errand was entirely worth it. He could have packed up his stuff, grabbed Vilad, and been halfway to Hammerfell, but, then again, he heard from a noble couple going to a wedding in Solitude that a calvary of Stormcloaks had been picked off there and were going to the block in the next week. The fire burned passionately, like his love for Vilad. He prayed to Mara she didn't fall for another man during his absense. After all, the marriage wasn't even official quite yet. He unraveled his bedroll, but, while unrolling it, he heard some rustling in the bushes. At first, he assumed the noise was just a fox, but, after hearing some more, he picked up his dagger. After all, it wouldn't be good to have your throat slit in the middle of the night by some Forsworn.

"Who goes there?" Arthelio asked.

A Forsworn recruit quickly arose.

"Please don't kill me! Uh... uh... my friend K'halo put me up to this!"

The person was a young Khajit, the sneaky type. Something didn't seem right about that. Despite his age, a Khajit wouldn't have made that drastic of a mistake.

"Why?" Arthelio persisted. "Why would you even want to do something like that?"

"I cannot tell, for it is a secret of the Forsworn."

"Don't give me that horse-dung." Arhtelio continued. "You're a Khajit. Khajits don't mess up sneaking. Where are they?"

"Where are who?"

Arthelio ran up to him and put his steel dagger against the cat's throat.

"Where are you buddies!?" Arthelio was getting irritated with the cat now.

"Ok, ok... I am not going to lie... the lady in Riften hired us to kill you! But my friends are not here."

"Then who is 'us'?"

At that moment, a Khajit ran up and attempted to stab Arthelio in the back. He sidestepped the cat, who stabbed his friend in the chest. The blood of the young Khajit hit the ground, as well as his tears.

"K'halo..." the Khajit wheezed out. "Don't... do... it. It's not... it's not worth... the stone!"

 _"Wait, I was getting that damned thing for..."_ Arthelio began to think. At this time, K'halo tried an over-the-head hit with his ebony blade. Arthelio, once again, sidestepped the cat.

"You want this thing? Well, you'll have to take it off of my corpse!"

"It's the Khajit tradition, my friend!"

As things have been for the last two months, Vilad was wide awake and the night was enjoying a good nap. She kept telling herself that she'd run out of candles if she couldn't sleep, or at least magicka potions. As she went to go do chores, she ran into a particularly special person. Maven. With a host of Dark Brotherhood assassins.

"Well, well, if it isn't Vilad." Maven said in a mockingly pitiful voice. "I'm afraid there's been an... accident... regarding a frost troll and Arthelio."

"I..." Vilad staggered.

"You!" Maven pointed to an assassin on the right. "Take care of her however you feel."

"Gladly," the assassin replied.

The two Khajit stood dead at his feet. A pool of blood formed around him. And all Arthelio could do was weep for them. He prayed to the gods to show them favor, lest they shouldn't make it into the gates of Sovngarde. He would go to bed, but he couldn't do it in his blood-stained armor. He couldn't even do it when he dressed the part for sleep. He decided to ride on through the night.


	3. Sweet Mother, Sweet Mother

As Arthelio continued to ride, he saw the guards of Riften watching over the stone walls of the capital of the Rift. He quickly spurred his horse, for he shall see his Vilad faster. Little to his knowledge, she wasn't there.

He could have broken the door of the stablemaster, if he didn't get to the door so fast. The knocks were heard by every citizen of the Rift, and maybe by Ulfric Stormcloak in Helgen. Funny. Though the excecution had already taken place, Arthelio still felt as if Ulfric was still out there, plunging the land of "his people" into the deepest pits of Oblivion. "His people" were sacrificing themselves for a cause long gone. "His people" were beheaded on sight, "his people" were labeled by the Imperial armies as tratiorous murderers, and yet he didn't give the slightest damn. Ulfric was cold-blooded, but it wasn't much of a surprise in the Skyrim forests. Just before breaking down the wooden door in rage over the Stormcloak war crimes, the stablemaster opened the door.

"Took your sweet time, didn't you? Could you fix this horse up?"

"You..." the stablemaster stammered. "B-but Maven... she... she..."

"Speak up. What did she do?"

"She... she..."

"ANSWER!" Arthelio couldn't know what to expect. Who knows what Maven could have done?

"She gave your wife to the Brotherhood."

Arthelio grabbed the stablemaster by the collar. "Look here, bub, I don't know what in Oblivion is going on here, but I can't be certain you're telling the truth. Where was she taken?"

"I overheard some of the Dark Brotherhood recruits talking about an abandoned shack outside of Solitude."

"Are you sure?"

The stablemaster nodded.

"Fix my horse up, right now!" Arthelio pulled the Stone of Barenziah out of his saddlebag and crushed it, his fist in a tight ball of anger. "I'm gonna go kill a Jarl."

He stomped into the gates of Riften, towards Mistveil Keep.

Her entire world was darkness. Her screams for help only brought tears that seemed to drown her. At least now she could get some rest. A splinter stabbed her in the knee, and her hands were bound by rope and dried up blood.

"Shut up, bitch!" one of the Dark Brotherhood recruits shouted. Vilad barely heard it over the sound of her screaming, and it didn't help her, having a potato bag over her head.

She could hear the neighing of a horse, and the ricketing of old, rotten wood. The ricketing slowly crawled to a hault, like a beggar crawling on his knees for a sweetroll, and an Imperial guard taking it and giving it to a child with rockjoint.

"We're here," she heard a voice say. One of the prisoner's head was banged on the wagon they were on in a struggle to get away. Vilad guessed he was unconscious, as one of the guards chuckled to his friend. "Hehehehe... dumb bastard."

She heard the unlocking of a door, and thought of what tests the gods could ever have awaiting her inside. A man grabbed her by the legs. She didn't struggle, for she already knew what happened to the guy before her.

"Put them over there," she heard a female voice say. "On their knees, in a row... yeah! Like that."

Vilad made a quick prayer to Kynareth to save her from this circumstance, or at least unlock the gates of Sovngarde for her. She prayed to the gods that Arthelio was still alive, and that Maven would be punished.


	4. Warning! Gore

"Well, well. That was a nice bit of business, wasn't it?" a mysterious female voice asks. "We know about Grelad the Kind. You did well on that contract. Only problem is... that was OUR contract."

 _"What in Oblivion's going on?"_ a now conscious Vilad thinks to herself.

"One of these people here have a contract on them. If you figure out who it is, we'll forget about this whole ordeal. Ok?"

 _"Dammit!"_ Vilad thought to herself. A one out of three chance of survival is not good.

"You! Wake up!" the aspiring assassin commanded Vilad. "Who are you?"

"None of your damn business." Vilad replied.

"Wrong answer." The assassin drew his sword and planted it into her leg. She felt her warm blood meet the cold steel in an unusual sensation that left her wanting to fight back. Only she couldn't, for there was a damn sword in her leg, and a potato sack around her head, not to mention the bindings of her hands, held together like a glue by dried blood.

"Aaegh!" She screamed in pain, desperate that the gods would give Arthelio more favor than what she was experiencing right now.

"Now, who are you?!" the assassin shouted, enraged.

"I am Vilad. My hometown is Helgen, in which I was born and raised. I made a juniper berry mead there for twenty years, until I met my husband, Arthelio. We moved to Riften, for being active Talos worshippers made the town turn on us like a pack of hungry cave bears! I wanted to continue making my mead, but my husband fell into banditry to put food on the table. Maven Black-Briar found out, had him killed, and sent you here to kill me!"

"Well, well, sounds like quite the tale you've got there." He slowly unsheathes his weapon from her leg, with much blood oozing from the wound. She again screams in agony, and quickly realizes her head might meet the same fate.

"Please, don't kill me!"

"Well, we are kind of in the same position here. I am sorry to say, but its survival of the fittest."

"Damn you to Oblivion!"

The rogue assassin, not to the knowledge of Vilad, wipes the blood from his blade, pitying her sad love story. He wasn't ever much of a Maven fan; she always thought of herself to be higher on the food chain than common folk like himself.

"Well, go on, pick your target," the female voice said, reasoning that he was feeling sorry for her.

"Don't ask me how," the assassin whispered to her, "but I know who you are. We have a, let's say, 'mutual' friend. We were captured by Imperial soldiers. I was riding in from Hammerfell, when the bastards accused me of thievery. We were sent to the block, but another... friend... helped us escape."

"Then why are you here?"

"Patience, patience," the female voice was saying to herself.

"I met a boy in Windhelm, who mistook me for a Dark Brotherhood assassin. He told me to kill a mean old hag of an orphanage caregiver in Riften. None of the kids liked her. I was approached by Maven Black-Briar after... killing... her. Maven told me that if I were to ever experience the frosts of Skyrim again, I must comply with her. She commaned me to kill you, and had hired the Dark Brotherhood to do a multitude of tasks in this regard, as well as two Khajit Forsworn."

"So that's who was sent to kill Arthelio."

"That is a possibility."

"Gods dammit!" the female voice shouted. "I have more work to do!" She drew a blade. "So pick your target, you'll be mine!"

"Well," the assassin replied. "It looks like I've found one."

"Really? I'm intrigued. Who was your pick?"

"Take a guess. You know I was hired to kill this lady right here today. You know damn well what kind of blackmail Maven is putting on the two of us. You know very well the circumstances she's in, and you know damn well that I could only afford to pull off that assassination for the good of the kids! You've collected your gold already from him, so I advise you to back off, or I'll gut you like I did Grelad!"

"Well, well, someone found their manhood."

"I guess you could say that. Something you don't know about me, though, even with all of your precious information and loose ends, is that if you kill me, your land... goes away."

"What do you mean?"

"I am Dragonborn, the Slayer of the World-Eater! Killing me would prevent the fearsome beast from being killed, and thus would damn the entire world."

"By killing one, I can kill thousands? Yes, yes... do go on."

"But by killing one, I can save thousands. Do you feel like dying so you can place the entire land of Tamriel on your trophy case in Oblivion?"

"Do you have a point?"

"Guess not."

Two steel blades clash, in a fight for the future of Tamriel. One comes out, victorious.


	5. Some Relatively Quick Events

Arthelio ran faster than he ever did in his life, panting short breaths and stopping for nothing. Madesi was thinking about stopping him, but didn't want to be pummeled by a bulky Nord such as Arthelio. It seemed as if he could break the damn door down, as fast as he was going. He shoves the door open, knocking over one of the Rift's guards in the process. As the dazed guards slowly starts to make his was up, he met a steel sword to the neck. Arthelio was back, and pissed off more than ever.

"She's dead."

"Thank you, sir."

"Quiet. Don't know how many men are outside."

"Well, the shouting didn't help."

All of the guards lay dead. It reminded him of the two Khajit cubs he killed along the way here. Maven wasn't here, which signified that she might be up in her chambers, hiding, so ready for her brutal downfall.

"You there! What have you done to Astrid?"

"Me? I might've shouted her against the wall, giving her severe head trauma and internal bleeding, then drew my blade and spilled her guts in front of her, and I might've torn her heart out and stabbed it onto the wall, letting her see it before she died, but you may want to go in there and check for yourself."

"Halt! Your killing spree ends today, Arthelio!"

"I don't even know who you are, but I'll rip your damn helmet off and smash your face in, because for all I know..."

Arthelio stabbed a dagger into the guard's chest, blood caressing with the blade.

"...you could be who I'm looking for."

He ripped the helmet off, and proceeded to smash the poor guard's face with the helmet until death.

The two did battle, the assassin attempting to stab Dovahkiin with an Orchish Dagger, which Dragonborn used an Iron Mace. The assassin lunged at Dragonborn, missing and ultimately failing. Dovakiin used the ancient dragon tongue to push the assassin to the ground, and picked him up.

Arthelio kicked the door open, startling Maven. She tried to escape, but Arthelio grabbed her by her black hair and slammed her head against a dresser.

"Where is Vilad?"

"The Dark Brotherhood..."

"What about them?"

"...took her to a shack outside of Solitude..."

"What did they do with her?"

"Cut the whore's throat..."

"Even in your death, you're going to be an arrogant bitch."

"You know, you didn't have to kill him like that."

"He would've killed you and your pals in there the same way."

"Thank you again, sir. Where's the closest town?"

"Solitude, a mile that way."


	6. The Downfall of the Beast and the Harlot

Hey guys, a couple of chapters ago, I got a message from a Chad Warden, and I want to thank him in several different ways. For one, he commented on the fanfic and told me how he felt about it, and I am appreciative of it. Even if you think it's boring, Chad, I am still thankful for that. I want to hear your guys' opinions on the story and how its going. For two, he pointed out that Vilod is a male in Skyrim, and corrected me on the spelling of his name. I played Skyrim on a mage playthrough the day after I published the first chapter, and saw Vilod's name in the subtitles, and I felt like a dumbass. Then, I hear him shout "Justice!" at the excecution and I felt like an extreme dumbass. Then, I see his character model, and I put a hole in the wall with my head. (Ok, that didn't actually happen). But Chad, when you take the replies off, that hurts me, because I want to get back in touch with you and talk with you about what could've made this more than what it is. But, thank you anyway for commenting, and I strongly advise you guys to comment on this, and call me a dumbass if you want (because, I really don't care), but I'll talk to you guys later.

"Ladies and gentlemen, people of Riften! I have before you the head of Maven Black-Briar!"

Arthelio lifts up the head, extreme blood clots sticking together in her hair.

"Do what you wish with it."

He throws the head down.

"Halt!" Brynjulf shouts at Arthelio. "You have just killed most of our gold income, lad. Now, I say you owe me a favor or two."

Arthelio draws his sword and points it at Brynjulf. "By what authority do you have to ask ME of a favor, brother?"

Brynjulf pulls out a dagger. "The authority of the Thieve's Guild."

"So, you're admitting to me that the allegations regarding Maven's involvement with you scumbags is true?"

"Well, you could put it that way..."

"She personally admitted to me that the Dark Brotherhood was involved with the disappearance and the possible murder of my dearly beloved wife, and now you're saying YOU got her the gold to do it?"

"Look, Arthelio..."

"Don't give me a 'We go way back' speech! The only thing that's going 'way back' now is my sword going way back in your throat!"

"Well, if you want to play it that way, but I've got an entire guild you'll have to take down afterward."

"I've taken down Riften, I'll take you down too!"

"Hey, you wouldn't mind taking me back to town, would you?"

"Well, I have a bounty on my head..."

"I just need to get back without being questioned about the bloody clothes..."

"Why?"

"I don't want people judging me!"

"For getting kidnapped by the Dark Brotherhood? It wasn't in your control."

"Hey!" a shout from the cabin echoed throughout the forests of Haafingar.

"Dammit. What is it now?"

"You forgot about the rest of us!"

Arthelio stood with his blade in Brynjulf's chest. He felt pity for his once brother in thievery, but felt none for the traitor that lie beneath. The blood gushed out of the thief, like the jelly of a sweetroll. As Brynjulf coughed out his last breaths, he simply stated to Arthelio...

"... you have waged a war... on all of Tamriel..."

"The thief, once noble, caught himself up in matters he knew nothing about. May the gods show favor to him in the next life, for he did not know what he was getting himself into."

Falkreath, a few months after the incident. A new soul just got added to the graveyard, and another burial was occuring on the other side of the graveyard. A heavy thunderstorm was cast upon the land.

"Sir, could you explain to me why?"

"Why? He was daft, and he wrapped his head up in business he didn't know about."

"But sir, it can't just end like that."

"It can, and it did. He was a fool, getting into Maven's business like that."


End file.
